


The Mother of Invention

by afailureofheart



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Teacher AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 22:44:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afailureofheart/pseuds/afailureofheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the worst beginnings have the best endings. Or, the one where Louis and Harry meet in a storage closet and maybe its the beginning of an epic love. Zayn was there too but since when was he important?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mother of Invention

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't know anything about these people or really anything else for that matter. This is a jumble of random British English and American terms. All mistakes are my own. 
> 
> I'm not sure where this is going if its even going anywhere, but this is how my parents met (sorta) and I decided I wanted Louis and Harry to meet like that too.

Harry woke up before his alarm. He lay in bed, nestled into the warm pocket of his quilt for a good ten minutes before the opening chords of ‘Man I Feel Like a Woman’ finally sounded.

Sitting up and swinging his legs off the edges of the bed, he reached over to shut off his alarm. The light of his iPhone illuminated his still dark room. The screen read 6:30. Harry knew he probably didn’t need to wake up this early. He didn’t actually need to leave the house before 7:45 at the latest to reach the school by 8:00. It was only a few blocks away from his flat, but the nerves that made it hard to fall asleep were also making it hard to stay asleep.

Rubbing his eyes, he stood up and walked into the bathroom. Flicking on the light he stared in the mirror above the sink. What looked back at him didn’t look any different than it usually did in the morning. His hair still stuck up in the back, and his eyes were still puffy the way they always were before he had his coffee. There was a slight oily sheen to his forehead, and a red mark on his cheek from where the pillow pressed into it, but other than that Harry still looked the same.

Its not that Harry expected to look different; he just thought he would at least feel a little different. Yesterday, he was, Harry Styles twenty-one year old Uni student with too many student loans and quite a few too many tattoos, and now today he was going to be, Mr. Styles twenty-one year old student teacher (still with too many student loans and quite a few too many tattoos).

Harry poked the tattoo on his chest, wincing at the pain. He’d just got it done a few weeks ago and it still hurt a bit. Niall had laughed at him the whole drive home.

“Only you Harry,” Niall chuckled in his deeply accented voice. “I don’t mean it in a mean way mate! I’m just saying I don’t think I know anyone else who’d go through that much pain just to have a butterfly on his chest for the rest of his life.”

Harry pouted. “Its not just a butterfly. Its symbolic. Its for me emerging from my cocoon and turning into who I’m meant to be.”

Niall snorted. “Harry you’re not coming out. You did that years ago. I just think you could have maybe found a symbol that didn’t last forever and require a needle.”

Harry shrugged. The pain was never really an issue for him, infact he found it kind of calming. It was so tangible, more so than a lot of other things in his life. It was one of the things that kept him coming back to the tattoo parlor, for more and more little scribbles. And as for the permanent aspect, there were few things in life that really did last forever so why should it be considered a bad thing?

By now the tattoo really only hurt when Harry pressed too hard on the inked flesh. Harry reached for his toothbrush and squirted a line of his favorite bubblegum toothpaste. Niall thought it was disgusting, and it sort of was, but Harry was hard pressed to turn down anything pink, it was a serious character flaw.

After brushing his teeth and taking a long luxurious shower, it was still only 7:35. Harry stood in front of the full length mirror on the back of his door inspecting himself. He was wearing tight black trousers, his dark brown boots, and his navy shirt with the white hearts. Maybe some other people wouldn’t have picked boots worn well past their prime and a Valentine’s Day shirt gone wrong (though is there any right kind of Valentine’s Day shirt?) for their first day at a new job, but that’s just the kind of person Harry was. He was most comfortable being himself, and if that made other people uncomfortable, well that was their problem then wasn’t it? After messing with his fringe for the millionth time, and fussing at the incriminating little bump on the bottom of his chin that was threatening to become a full blown blemish one of these days, Harry decided he couldn’t wait any longer.

By this time it was now only 7:40, but he figured if he stopped at the little shop by the deli to pick up a danish on his way he’d only be a few minutes early. Harry pulled a beanie on over his still damp hair, grabbed his keys off the hook by the door and took the two flights of stairs two-by-two all the way to the car park.

He sighed when he opened the door to his puke green 1998 Volkswagen Jetta. In his early morning fervor he’d forgotten that he and Niall trashed his car during their late night McDonalds run Saturday, after a marathon Fifa aided by copious amounts of marijuana. He meant to clean it up on Sunday but he’d been too busy with lesson plans and picking out his outfit. Harry knew that the teacher he would be working with would probably rather he check grammar in essays than have him explain his innovative teaching strategies using pop-culture and Freud, but eager was pretty much his middle name.  

After Harry finished cleaning up the disgusting mess of stale chips and McNuggets it was 7:50. By the time he got to the stop light next to the deli it was 8:56 and Harry realized there was no time for danishes and he was going to be lucky if he got their on time. While the school was only a few blocks from Harry’s flat, there was certainly more traffic than he thought their would be. He was never a part of the morning commute, and he was now learning the hardway it was going to take a lot longer than he thought.

The clock struck 8:10 when Harry was still a block away from the school. “Shit,” he swore loudly. Being late is the one thing you don’t want to be on your first day of work if you want to make a good impression, and Harry desperately wanted to make a good impression. He was so excited to get this opportunity, most teaching students aren’t assigned to teach until the spring but a spot had opened up at the nearby college and Harry’s professor had recommended him, so here he was on November 22nd and already late to his first day.

Harry pulled into the car park at 8:19 and rushed inside. He hurried to the main office for his room assignment, and prayed that first period was miraculously starting at 8:19 today. A woman with bright red lips and white blond hair sat behind the desk chatting amiably to a man with cropped brown hair who was leaning on it.

“I hate to interrupt but I’m Harry Styles, the new student teacher for Mrs. Howel and I need my room assignment,” Harry rushed out, tugging his beanie off his head, still a little out of breath from running through the car park.

“Oh hi!” smiled the blonde woman. “It’s such a relief you’re here. We’ve been having to schedule substitutes for over a week now. We’ve just been waiting for you to start because it will be so much easier, or well I’ve been waiting for you to start. Those temp agencies are a pain to deal with.”

Harry gave her a puzzled look. He wasn’t a substitute teacher. He was a student teacher. She must have him mixed up with someone else.

“I’m not-” he started, attempting to straighten this out.

“Liam will take you. He teaches maths across the hall,” she said, gesturing to the man leaning on the desk.

“Course I will. I was just headed to class,” said the man, apparently named Liam, as he motioned for Harry to follow him. Harry did.

“I think she’s got me mixed up with someone else. I’m just a student teacher. I’m not here to fill in for anyone.” Harry tried to explain.

“No she knows who you are. Cindy Howel, who you were supposed to be working with has been out for appendicitis for the past week and isn’t scheduled to be back for two more weeks. Perrie’s had to schedule people to cover her class, but now that you’re here you can do it.” smiled Liam. He had sincere brown eyes that crinkled a bit when he smiled, Harry decided that he liked him.

“I don’t know if I’m equipped to handle a class. I can’t even get here on time.” sighed Harry. He wasn’t sure he was ready to do this.

“Nonsense, you’ll do great. Harry is it? I’ve been teaching for three years now and trust me their bark is worse than their bite. They’re just teenagers, by the looks of it you weren’t one that long ago.” Harry blushed.

“Besides no one ever starts first period before 8:30 because none of the kids have usually arrived until then. So you still have a good ten minutes.” Liam said checking his watch. They stopped at a door marked Room 233.

“Well here we are. The lesson plan should be on the desk, and I’m just across the hall if you have any problems. Good luck! I’ll see you at lunch. All the teachers eat in the lounge. I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Liam said, turning to head into his own room.

Harry took a breath before stepping inside the room. It was a big room covered in goofy inspirational posters that said things like Success is just hard work in disguise and had pictures of unrelated landscapes. There were quite a few projects hanging up around the room that look suspiciously like book reports. A giant whiteboard covered the front wall and there were four neat rows of five tan desks each. There weren’t many students, but the few who were there were glued to their phones and didn’t seem to notice Harry’s arrival.

He walked up to the desk in front of the white board and set his bag down on the roller chair behind it. Sifting through the papers scattered across the desk he finally found what appeared to be a lesson plan. It read, 1.get new journals from storage closet R245. Harry had no idea what the journals would be used for but he decided he shouldn’t argue with the lesson plan.

He considered popping his head into Liam’s room to ask where exactly the storage closet was, but decided that his first act as teacher he would attempt to complete on his own. Afterall, he was now completely in charge of his own classroom. This was the big leagues.

After roaming the halls for a few minutes and accidentally forcing his way into an art room, Harry finally found the storage closet.

However, when he opened the door it was already occupied. He was greeted by a pair of light blue pants, which were bent over emphasizing the swell of a well endowed backside beneath the tightly stretched material, and the curious hazel eyes of a stunning black haired man.

“Oh,” he exclaimed in surprise, and even more to his surprise the blue pants answered.

“Well don’t sound that surprised Zayn! It’s not as if I sleep with everyone I meet.”

Harry smiled to himself, assuming that Zayn was the pair of cheek bones and high quiff that was now chuckling at Blue Pants.

“Zayn! I seem to remember you having quite a few notches in your belt before meeting Perrie. Now granted, probably not as many as me, but I can’t help that everyone wants to sleep with me. It’s a curse really. Where is that damn- Aha!” exclaimed Blue Pants. Apparently having located what ever was hidden in behind the shelves of the storage closet. With a little butt riggle (that had Harry feeling hot and itchy in his tight trousers) and a shoulder shimmy, Harry was quickly confronted with the front side of Blue Pants, and he had to say he liked it even better than the back.

At the sight of Harry the man turned a bit pink, blush coloring his sharp cheekbones. “You neglected to mention we had company Zayn,” he huffed straightening out his black jumper, which swooped low enough to provide a generous glimpse of sharp collar bones and cursive script. Zayn chuckled, but made no attempt to justify his actions.

“And who might you be my heart patterned friend?” questioned Blue Pants, arching one perfectly rounded eyebrow in curiosity.

Harry stared for a minute, stretching out the pause for just long enough it was a bit awkward, trying to take in every line of the man before him. From the feathery golden hair artfully arranged in disarray to the piercing blue eyes and indignant bow-shaped smirk, he was the most beautiful creature Harry had ever seen.

“Er- Harry. Harry Styles,” he coughed awkwardly, trying to regain his composure in the company of angels. “I’m Mrs. Howel’s student teacher. Or well I was supposed to be and now I’m her substitute until she gets back,” he said trying to explain away the awkward tension filling the storage room.  

“Well Harry Styles, I’m Louis and this horrible excuse of a friend is Zayn. I run the Theatre department and Zayn teaches Art. You’ve already been introduced to my bum and now that I have my stapler, I’ll just be leaving. Minds to mold, and all that.” replied Louis, before maneuvering his way past Harry and out of the closet.

“More like polluting,” muttered Zayn before following in his path. “Nice to meet you mate,” he threw over his shoulder before attempting to catch up to an already skipping Louis.

Once they were out of sight, Harry grabbed the first pile of notebooks he saw and hurried back to his class. He had a feeling this was going to be more than he signed up for.

 


End file.
